


Gender Studies 101:  An Introduction to Modern Sexuality

by CaptainAmelia22



Category: Captain America, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate History, F/F, M/M, Modern Sexuality, The Start of Something Romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-25 04:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAmelia22/pseuds/CaptainAmelia22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Henrietta O'Mallia is an American history professor and the leading authority on the secret war fought during World War II. She knows more about Howard Stark, Project: Rebirth and the single most greatest symbol of American patriotism, Captain America, than anyone living.  So when she wakes up one day to see New York under attack by aliens and the streets of the City being protected by a man in a very familiar red, white and blue uniform, she knows she has to have him for her lecture series.  </p><p>She has to have Captain America.</p><p>And she'll make sure she gets him, or die trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction:  An Author's Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just a short drabble I came up with last month while sitting in my law lecture. I'm sure my professor thought I was being a diligent student as I scribbled frantic notes in my notebook but what she will never realize is I never took lecture notes while sitting in her class. That notebook is full of more outlines, character descriptions and partial sections of dialogue than it is of anything even remotely related to law. 
> 
> So here is what I have affectionately dubbed the "Law Story," and I hope you enjoy it as much as I have! 
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> -M

_We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for this public service announcement..._

"Henri! Get in here! You need to see this!"

Dr. Henrietta O'Malia grimaced at Dr. Samantha Cartwright’s bellow and continued rewriting the paragraph she'd been working on for the past hour. It simply wasn't flowing right...

A part of her registered the sudden lack of music coming from the front room but she didn't pay attention. Knowing Sam, she’d probably gotten onto the shopping network and had found something useless to spend money on. Henri would never understand her partner's shopping channel fetish.

_...The Army and National Guard are on scene and there have been sightings of Tony Stark's Iron Man, as well as several unidentified..._

"Henri! Seriously!"

Another grimace. She gazed absently at the paragraph which continued to taunt her with its awkwardness and snarled. "Sam, you should know by now that even though they say it's only $14.95, with the added chop-a-bloc it will really be like $40 with shipping and handling!" She stabbed the backspace key with a little too much vigor and watched ten minutes of hard, focused work vanish.

She shouldn't have come to Boston this weekend. She never got any work done when she stayed at their weekend hidey-hole. She should have stayed in Cambridge like a good-girl and finished this goddamn chapter and...

"Woman! This is not the shopping network! This is history! This is the world ending!"

"The world's going to end if I don't get this chapter fixed and sent to my editor by Monday," Henri groaned as she turned to her journal stuffed with notes and references. "Can you turn that down?" she shouted in frustration as the TV in the living room continued to blare.

Sam ignored her.

_...While we are not sure if this is a concentrated terrorist attack or simply the attack of a single organization, we do know that as of ten eastern standard time this morning a portal appeared in the sky above Tony Stark's Stark Tower here in Midtown and creatures wearing unusual..._

Why was Sam watching a sci-fi movie? Sam hated sci-fi/apocalypse/horror films.

"Sammy, turn off SyFy, you're going to give yourself nightmares," she shouted as she found the notes she needed for this chapter. "Turn back to AltNation! I can't record history if I don't have hipster music blaring!" she bellowed as she began to type with renewed fervor.

She was onto something here.

"Howard Stark may have been a drunk and a poor father later in life, but none can doubt that some of his greatest work took place during the scientific program commonly referred to as 'Project: Rebirth’..." she muttered as she typed.

Suddenly she squawked as Sam appeared in the bedroom and hauled her out of bed. "Henri, I swear to God, you do not want to miss this," she snapped as Henri scrabbled for her laptop.

"Sam!" she shrieked as she was forced bodily into the living room. "What the hell is going on?"

"Look," Sam murmured, her eyes terrified as she gazed at the big screen TV sitting in the mahogany entertainment unit. Henri shivered as the first trickling of unease washed down her spine and turned to gaze at the still blaring television.

What she saw there both horrified and fascinated her.

New York City was under attack.

Her hands rose to her pale face as she gasped; she barely noticed Sam wrapping her arms around her shoulders.

All she noticed was...

"I'm not wearing any pants," she whispered as she watched the City burn. "The world's coming to an end and I'm not wearing any pants."

Sam let out a hysterical little laugh and buried her face in the other woman's hair. “Shut up, Henri,” she whispered. “Just…shut up.”

Henri did.

"...We have received many reports that the Iron Man has been spotted throughout Midtown," a young reporter from Boston's News 56 was saying. She seemed to be located near Midtown; Henri could see the Empire State Building and Stark Tower with an odd blue beam streaming from its roof over the girl’s shoulder.

The sky was black and roiling over Midtown and…things…were streaming from the hole over Stark Tower.

Henri couldn’t help but stare in fascination at the grey skinned freaks as they flew through the streets of Midtown. She barely noticed a red and gold blur following them.

She focused back on the nervous reporter as the woman continued, "Our specialists are still attempting to identify the as-of-now unknown masked and caped defenders currently located near Stark Tower." She hesitated and as the screen split to show both her and the talking heads of the newsroom, a fierce roar could be heard over the feed.

The reporter flinched, her hand rising to her ear in response and cleared her throat. "If you remember three summers ago, Stan and Laura, Harlem experienced an attack from an entity now known as the Hulk," she said weakly as her cameraman caught sight of a giant green blur flying through the air to smash into the windows of an office building. "It's been confirmed that the Hulk is here today."

"Rebecca, is the Hulk part of this attack?" said one of the talking heads. He was slightly rumpled, his graying hair sticking out in every direction, almost as if he hadn't had time to get cleaned up before being shoved on set.

His partner was decidedly disheveled too.

Henri snorted. Even she could tell the Hulk wasn't attacking the City.

"No Stan," said the young reporter. She swallowed nervously and cleared her throat. "No, it appears the Hulk…” she hesitated, the impossible words freezing in her mouth and then she straightened and firmed her jaw. “It seems the Hulk is defending the City, Stan. We’ve seen him attack the terrorists several times now. No, this seems to be an unprecedented attack. This is something we've never seen before. I’m sorry Stan, but this seems to be…"

Suddenly the camera panned and Henri saw a horrifying close-up of what was actually attacking the City. She gasped. “Is that,” she choked.

She turned to gaze at Sam, who was still staring in horrified fascination at the screen. Henri turned back to the TV and choked out at the same as the young reporter in a rumpled blue suit, “Aliens.”

“It’s been confirmed by several government agencies, including NASA and the Pentagon, that this is indeed an extraterrestrial attack, no matter how impossible this may seem.”

All Henri could do was stare. She’d forgotten her pantless state, forgotten her need to get the updated chapters of her book to her editor, and forgotten the papers going ungraded in her messenger bag in the office.

All that mattered right now was that New York City was under attack.

By aliens.

By noon they’d confirmed that yes, Tony Stark’s Iron Man was involved in the defeat of the alien attack; they’d also confirmed that the Hulk was involved, although there was some debate between news teams whether or not he was actually aiding the team of specialists battling away in Midtown.

According to Fox News he was as much of a threat as the terrorists.

They also refused to acknowledge the existence of E.T.

Not that that surprised either woman curled up together on the couch.

As for the other members of the elite team battling tirelessly, there wasn’t much known. Especially about the last member of the team; there were a lot of rumors flying across the newsrooms, both locally and nationally as news teams caught their first sight of the man with the shield.

Henri wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but when her eyes were finally able to lock on the red, white and blue blur somersaulting and vaulting over the burning shells of abandoned vehicles into crumbling buildings to rescue stranded civilians, she gasped.

She threw herself across Sam’s lap and without apologizing rewound the news footage showing a masked man in a tight-as-sin star spangled uniform, bearing a round shield with a star at its center on his right arm, as he flew through the air after deflecting a bomb blast in a burning bank.

“Holy shit,” she breathed as she muted and froze the footage. “It can’t be.”

It was. How could it not be?

The shield. The stars and stripes. The unbelievable acrobatics. The team.

It was _him_.

Stabbing her remote at the TV, she turned to Sam and shrieked, “I want him!”

Sam sighed and tried to steal the remote back from her girlfriend. “No, you can’t have him. He’s currently battling E.T.’s scary cousin. Give me the remote Henrietta.”

Henri held the remote out of her partner’s reach and gestured at the screen. “You don’t get it, Sam,” she said fiercely, her grey eyes blazing. “I need him! He’s a legend! He’s an impossible, beautiful legend!” At Sam’s blank look she sighed and stood; her long legs tangled in her excitement as she threw herself towards the TV, but she righted herself with alacrity. “Look at him,” she breathed as she knelt in front of the screen. Glancing at her partner, who still looked bewildered, she shook her head. “Look at what he’s wearing! Think of what he’s doing right now! That, baby, is the embodiment of American Patriotism right there!”

Henri’s eyes were glowing with excitement and something similar to fanaticism.

Sam sat up slowly and tucked her shoulder length blonde hair behind her ears. She studied her girlfriend carefully, noting her manic behavior. There were only two things in the world Henrietta O’Malia, professor of American History at Harvard and author of the Pulitzer winning manuscript, The American War Machine of World War II, got truly excited about.

Sex.

And Project: Rebirth.

“No,” she said slowly as she swung her legs off the couch and prepared to tackle her partner in case the other woman decided to do something stupid like run away to an alien-ridden New York City to steal away a star-spangled masked soldier. “That isn’t-it can’t be! It’s just a hoax! It’s not him!” She hesitated, her convictions fading as she noted Henri’s solemn expression and blazing grey eyes.

It was amazing how easily Henri could assume her professor of history persona, even when the only thing she wore was a much-faded Berkley woman’s rugby t-shirt.

“Of course it is Samantha,” she said seriously as she stood before the TV. She replayed the footage, showing the man in question as he vaulted over a fallen alien; Sam shivered as she watched him use his starry shield as a hammer against an armed foe with ease. “First, note his uniform,” Henri was saying. Sam was surprised she wasn’t drooling. “While it is not as strappy and stripey as the uniform from the War, it speaks of his very heritage.” Sam snorted but Henri continued, oblivious to her girlfriend’s disbelief. “Notice the placement of the stripes and the single star at his chest?” She cupped her chin and cocked her head as she gazed at a stilled frame of the man. “The star over his heart? The stripes at his waist? He’s the heart and soul of America, Sam. He always has been.”

She sighed longingly and let the footage play forward; together they watched as the man threw his shield like a giant Frisbee of starry doom. It flew away off screen and Sam was sure Henri moaned at the sight. Sam was quiet as she watched her partner cock her head and consider the TV. She knew that stance…

“Henri,” she said, her voice quiet. “It’s not him. He died. He crashed a plane into the Arctic. You know this better than anyone. You know more about him and Howard Stark and the SSR than any person still alive. But it’s not him. It can’t be.”

Even she could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

Henri turned suddenly, a giant smile on her face and with a tiny hop she crowed, “You know it’s him Sam! You know it! That is who I think it is.” She threw her hand out in the direction of the TV where the aliens were still being held off by the Iron Man and his mysterious team; as the Hulk roared, she declared fiercely, “That is Captain America.”

Neither noticed Tony Stark flying into the portal looming over his Tower. Neither noticed the deadly payload he carried.

They did notice when the invading army suddenly collapsed as the portal they’d arrived through snapped closed.

Both women screamed and cheered as the Army swept through the streets and bedraggled civilians emerged to gaze around themselves in shocked wonder.

It wasn’t until much later, when they were tangled together in bed, that Henri whispered, “Do you think they survived?”

Sam didn’t have to ask who she meant.

“I hope so, sweetheart,” she whispered back, tears pricking her eyes at the memories of those unusual people fighting in the streets against impossible odds. “I really hope so.”

She couldn’t help hoping that the impossible man in the red and gold suit was okay.  He still owed her...

“That was Captain America,” Henri murmured, her voice thick with sleep. Sam could still hear her excitement though but she didn’t fight it anymore.

They’d both witnessed something impossible today.

They'd seen New York besieged by aliens.

Was a ninety-plus year old super soldier in starry spandex too hard to believe in?

“I still want him,” murmured Henri, as her eyes finally closed.

Sam chuckled and pressed her lips to her girlfriend’s temple. “You never could resist a man in tights, could you baby?”

Her only answer was a soft snore.

It wasn’t until the next day that the Iron Man’s, a.k.a. Tony Stark, the world famous billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and now superhero’s, survival was confirmed, via press conference in the very battered atrium of Stark Tower.

Sam breathed a silent sigh of relief as the man stepped up to the podium and fiddled with his tie, a familiar mischievous grin on his lips.

“How about we stick with the cards, folks, just to keep things simple,” he said and the reporters laughed uncertainly while Sam rolled her eyes.

Nothing about Tony Stark was ever simple.

But at least he was alive.

While the identities of the other soldiers who had fought in Midtown weren’t confirmed officially, rumors began to fly about who they really were and as to who they really worked for. The longer the rumors went unconfirmed, the wilder they became.

When they returned to Harvard’s campus Monday morning, Henri became an unholy terror. She dogged Sam’s footsteps whispering, “I want Captain America. I need him Sammy. You have to get him to me.”

She drove her girlfriend, Dr. Samantha Cartwright, Dean of History, quite literally up the wall and when Sam finally kicked Henri out of their Boston apartment the next weekend she grabbed the woman by her hair and growled, “Fine. Fine Henrietta. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll pull some strings. But I’m not doing this for you,” she shook Henri’s head fiercely as the other woman grinned in victory.

Sam sighed, rolled her eyes and shoved her girlfriend gently away from her. “I’m doing this for my sanity, Henri. And for our students. Because if that guy is the real deal…” she sighed and rubbed her forehead as Henri bounced up and down before her. Opening her eyes, she continued, “If that guy is the real deal then you’re right. We do need him.”

Henri cheered but before she could wrap her arms around Sam, the door was slammed in her face and she bellowed through the red painted wood, “Now go home Henri! I need to make some calls and I need to drink an entire bottle of wine. Jesus woman. Go home and finish that damn book!”

Three days later Sam called her into her office. Henri scrambled through the door, her arms full of end of semester theses and her laptop, and before Sam could even greet her or kiss her, Henri was saying, “Did you do it? Did you get me Captain America?”

Her eyes were sparkling and several papers slid from her arms as she bounced before Sam’s desk. The other woman rolled her eyes and held up an envelope bearing a very official seal Henri didn’t recognize.

She screamed and the rest of the theses went flying; Sam barely managed to save the laptop as the letter was snatched from her hands.

A small smile flitted across her lips as she set the computer aside and watched Henri tear the envelope open. She already knew what it said; she’d received a much less formal email from an old colleague the night before basically telling her what she could barely believe. He’d also asked her out for dinner. The ass.

So she knew what Henri was reading right now but that didn’t stop her from shivering in excitement as she watched her girlfriend sag into a conveniently placed chair; she’d read the letter twice now, her lips mouthing the words as her brain tried to process what she’d read.

Sam loved this part of Henri, the manic, almost childlike fervor she had for her one great passion in life. It was what had drawn her to the woman, all those years ago during her own adjunct lecture series. Henri had been outspoken, passionate, a star among a lecture theater full of bored and spoiled freshmen.

She was still a star.

She was the single-most popular professor of American history at the college, possibly the nation. Sam had to work very hard to keep her on the Harvard faculty roster.  
Not that she’d ever tell Henri that. The woman would be crowing about it for years.

“You did it,” Henri whispered, her voice cracking as she tried to contain her feelings. Sam felt her heart swell as the younger woman turned a wonder filled and loving gaze upon her and she smiled gently.

“Of course I did Henrietta,” she said. “I always fulfill my promises.”

Henri started to laugh as she threw her arms around her girlfriend’s neck and as she rained kisses on the woman’s cheeks and nose she crowed, “You got me Captain America! Captain freaking America is coming to my lecture series! Oh my God I love you! I love you so much!”

Sam chuckled and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s waist and kissed her lips gently. “I know you do,” she murmured.

Together they gazed at the letter sitting on the desk beside them and Henri’s fingers shook as she stretched her hand out to brush his name typed in bold letters under the salutation from one Commander Maria Hill of SHIELD.  Whatever  _that_ was.  

“He’s coming in a week, Sammy,” she whispered, wonder filling her voice. “I’m going to meet Captain America in a week.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, baby,” she murmured. “Yeah you’re going to meet Captain America.”

That night, as they lay in bed and watched Pawn Stars, they tried to come up with a lecture plan involving the Captain. Or at least, Sam did. Henri simply sipped her glass of Trimonette and worked on a new chapter of her book.

Finally, after Sam had impatiently nudged her a few times, she glanced over, shoved her glasses up her nose and said with a shrug, “Sam, baby, this is not a normal guest lecturer. This is a man out of history. There is no lecture plan that can even begin to compare to what he has to tell us. I’m just going to let him talk to the kids and then I’m going to talk to him myself.”

Sam stared at her for a moment and then gasped, “You’re going to put him in the book?”

Henri snorted and closed her laptop. “Of course he’s going in the book. He is the damn book.” She slid from the bed, pulled on a raggedy sweatshirt and rummaged in her purse for her Slims. “I need a cig. I’ll be on the balcony.”

She prowled from the room and Sam watched her go, a small frown on her face. Suddenly, her old colleague’s emailed words drifted through her head and she sighed.

 _Just have to tell you_ _Sammy_ , he'd written, _your people are going to be sworn to secrecy. You’re not going to be able to find out who he really is, so don’t try. You won’t be able to talk to him on a one-on-one basis. He’s going to have a handler and I’m telling you from experience, you don’t mess with the handlers._

_So just be careful, okay sweetheart?_

_Cap’s a good guy; he’s happy to help but he’s still not used to the way we work. Bear with him._

She was going to have to talk to Henri about this in the morning.

Not that Dr. Henrietta O’Malia was going to listen to anything she had to say about Captain America.

She never did.


	2. The Object

"Tony, do I have to do this?" 

Tony Stark glanced up from the chest plate he was soldering at the Captain's worried voice and smirked. "Having stage fright, Rogers?" he asked as he pushed his goggles onto his forehead. "You're not going to back out of this are you?" 

Steve Rogers stiffened where he stood in Tony's personal workshop and frowned. "No," he said slowly. "I guess I just don't understand why I'm being sent to talk to a bunch of college students. What's the purpose?" 

"The purpose?" Tony said as he moved around his work bench to where the Captain stood near the door. "The purpose is, we need to do some P.R. after the horned god of destruction's little hissy fit and you're the perfect person to do it."

He set his hands on his hips and beamed at the still frowning Captain. Rogers sighed and folded his arms. "Why me?"

Tony chuckled and clapped his hand on the taller man's shoulder as he made his way towards the kitchenette. "Because you're Captain America and I owed a favor to a friend," he said over his shoulder as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He couldn't help thinking of Samantha Cartwright's phone call nearly two weeks ago. She'd sounded just like she had back in the day when they'd been in Cambridge attending Harvard and MIT respectively. 

"What kind of friend?" 

Tony could swear he heard the man's eyes narrowing at the question and he wondered how far he could go before the Cap blushed. Probably not far enough to make it worthwhile. 

"Just a friend from grad school," he sighed as he turned back to his bench and waiting armor. Rogers was still frowning and as he opened his mouth to ask another boring question, Tony's hand rose and he said quickly, "Not that kind of friend, Rogers, Jesus. I wasn't what she was interested in, anyway." He skated over the confused expression in the man's eyes. If he met Sammy, he'd understand. "Nah, she was just someone I knew from the bars. And she may have helped me out a few times during the three years we were in Cambridge." 

"How?" Rogers asked, curious despite himself. He'd moved further into the lab and was now standing near the workbench in an at-ease position. 

Old habits die hard, Tony thought with a smirk as he glanced at the man. He sighed and fiddled with the soldering iron and felt his neck warm at the old memories this was bringing back. "She, uh, got me out of some trouble with the Old Man a few times," he muttered as he slid the goggles over his eyes. 

"Howard?" Rogers asked, his voice surprised and his blue eyes suddenly sparkling as he leaned forward towards Tony.

Tony had to struggle to remember that Steve Rogers had known Howard Stark during the man's good years. Of course he would think of the man in a positive light. 

"Yeah, Howard," he said stiffly as he bent over the silver chest plate of his newest Iron Man Suit. Glancing at Rogers he sighed once more at the expectancy in his ice-blue eyes and pushed the piece away so he could lean his elbows on the bench. "She may or may not have agreed to come to family dinners a few times during our grad school years," he explained. "Howard was convinced I was spending all of my trust fund on booze and loose women so I wrangled Sammy into coming along for Thanksgiving and Easter a couple times to show the man I wasn't a complete scamp." 

Rogers cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at Tony's sarcastic tone of voice and snorted. "He bought that?"

Tony's eyebrows rose over his goggles and he let out a sharp bark of laughter. Rogers was catching on. 

Finally.

"Well, I don't know if Howard did, but my mother was certainly convinced. She was secretly planning a wedding for Sammy and me." His voice trailed away as his fingers idly toyed with a screwdriver and he sighed. "I'm glad she didn't have to find out it was just a scam. That would have killed her." 

Rogers heard the regret and sadness in the other man's voice; he didn't know a lot about Tony Stark but from what he'd seen and read, he didn't think it could have been an easy life for the only Stark son. 

A part of him was happy he'd known Howard before the man had hardened. 

"Stark," he said after a moment, his voice quiet. Tony didn't look at him right away so Rogers leaned over so he could see the man's eyes through his tinted goggles. Tony finally met his gaze and Rogers smiled. "Tony, I'll do it. I'll go to Harvard and talk to this class of history students." He turned to leave and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. "It'll be nice to get out of the Tower for a while anyway," he said with a shrug as Tony turned to him. 

"Thanks Cap," Tony murmured as he watched the man weave through the workshop towards the door. 

Rogers paused in the doorway and turned back to him. "You owe me Stark," he said with a small smile on his lips. 

"Yeah, I guess I do," Tony said with a chuckle. "However shall I repay you?"

Rogers shrugged as he pushed the door of the shop open and called over his shoulder as he left, an odd light in his eye, "I don't know. Maybe dinner sometime?"

Tony froze, his eyes widening as he took in the Captain’s suddenly rosy cheeks and that mischievous sparkle. And then he started to laugh in disbelief. “Well, it’s a date, Rogers! I really like Italian!” he sputtered as Rogers winked and left the workshop. 

Stark’s throaty chuckle followed the Captain all the way down the hall and he couldn't help smiling as he waited for the elevator. His skin felt hot but for once he was happy. Dinner with Stark would be…interesting. He was actually looking forward to it.

When the stainless steel doors swept open to reveal Tony Stark's assistant and co-CEO, Pepper Potts, he took a step back and tapped his fingers to his forehead in a quick salute. 

"Ma'am," he said with a small smile as she slipped out of the elevator. 

She smiled as well and nodded, "Captain. How are you?" 

"Very well," he said. "Just getting ready for this talk at Harvard tomorrow. I had some questions for Mr. Stark." 

She nodded, her smile widening and she chuckled. "Oh, right! The history lecture! I forgot about that. Tony was so excited when you got cleared by the Director and SHIELD for this. Something about an old friend and no longer owing favors." She rolled her eyes. 

Rogers chuckled as well and shrugged. "I'm just happy to help. It should be fun, just like the talks I did during the War," he said as he slipped into the elevator. "Well, I should go. Goodbye Ms. Potts." 

"Bye Captain!" she called as the doors swept closed behind him. 

She gazed thoughtfully at the elevator for a moment and then made her way down the hall to Tony's workshop. 

"You didn't tell him about Samantha Cartwright, did you?" she asked as she slipped through the door. 

Tony was buried in his armor, sparks flying everywhere as he welded bits-and-pieces together and she had to shout through the 1812 Overture currently blasting from the speakers. Without asking, JARVIS turned the volume down to something more reasonable and she sighed.

He glanced at her as the music faded, a small smirk on his lips and he snapped his torch off. "What was that Miss Potts? You want me in the bedroom?" he said in mock surprise, his dark eyes sparkling. 

She sighed and shook her head, amazingly not fed up with his fake advances yet. "You didn't tell Captain America about your grad school lesbian girlfriend did you?" she asked, her voice dangerously calm. 

Tony hesitated, for just a moment, and she sighed. "Tony," she groaned as she sagged into a stool next to him. He opened his mouth but she shook her head. His mouth snapped closed and she continued, "That poor man has no idea how much this world has changed, Tony! He slept through the Cold War, through Woodstock, through the sexual revolution of the 70's and through the grunge era of the 90's! He doesn't know what he's getting into! How is he going to handle this?" 

Tony snorted and waved his hand in dismissal. "I think he's going to be fine, Pep," he said with a chuckle, absently thinking of Rogers mischievous gaze and what it was doing to his heart. "He's not a Disney princess. Although he does bear a certain resemblance to a certain blonde who slept for like ever-"

"Tony," she said firmly, forcing him back to the subject at hand. "He only just woke up and already you've taken him to a strip club, given him a lifetime supply of porn and introduced him to several escorts." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "You're going to scar him for life," she groaned. 

"He'll be all right, Pep; if anything I was throwing the wrong kind of entertainment at the guy," Tony said as he leaned back in his chair. Pepper’s eyebrows rose in confusion but he continued without explanation, "If there's anyone on that campus the Captain will get along famously with, it's Samantha Cartwright." He paused and smirked before continuing, "I would love to see his face when he meets her and her partner though. That would be entertaining." 

"Oh Tony," whispered Pepper as she stood and made her way towards the shop door. "You're going to be the death of me. I suppose I should write up some precautionary paperwork about this sure-fire disaster." She hesitated at the door and turned back to him, "You have a board meeting in twenty minutes. We expect you to be there." 

He saluted her, his dark eyes sparkling but as she was about to leave he called, "I'll be there, but you might want to change that skirt, Potts!" 

Pepper's horrified gasp at the sight of a giant grease stain on the back of her gray pencil skirt was drowned by the 1812 Overture as Tony once more turned back to his Suit. 

He pretended not to hear her screaming at him about the filth of his workspace. 

He had tried to warn her when she sat down in that stool.


	3. Studying the Object

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow one of my chapters went missing and didn't get updated to this fic. 
> 
> I was wondering why it looked so small.
> 
> Epic fail on not noticing this before hand!
> 
> I'm so sorry. 
> 
> -M

Steve Rogers had never felt so ridiculous in his life until that moment when he walked through Harvard’s campus in his uniform and shield. 

And that included the USO shows. 

At least SHIELD had given him a brand new uniform. This one wasn’t as…revealing as the one he’d worn in Midtown. 

It was still uncomfortable. 

There were a few more buckles and zippers on this version. But he had to admit, Stark’s designs for the scales and cowl were far better than anything SHIELD had come up with. 

He couldn’t help smiling at that and he shifted the shield on his arm, easing it up his forearm for greater range. 

Glancing over his shoulder at Phil Coulson who had been assigned as the Avenger’s official handler, he asked, “Do I have to wear the suit now Agent Coulson? My identity isn’t known by any here.” 

Coulson, his eyes shadowed by the dark glasses he wore, glanced around the silent hallway through which they walked, noting the security cameras and sorority girls with iPhones combined with instagram apps and shook his head. 

“Sorry Cap,” he said, his voice mild as he shifted the sling he wore. SHIELD had him in the blasted thing until his shoulder healed completely. Which could take a while. He supposed he should count himself lucky; another inch to the right and Loki would have skewered his heart with the damned scepter he’d carried. “Can’t take any chances. You’re one of our most valuable assets now.” 

Rogers sighed and fiddled with his shield, his cheeks warming as a girl, pretty as could be in a modern sort of way, stopped in the middle of the hallway to stare at him, her mouth slightly agape. 

“Ma’am,” he said politely as his fingers rose to tip an invisible hat. 

The young lady’s gasp was loud in the towering hallway and Rogers cringed; turning back to Coulson he just caught the small twitch of the man’s lips and he shrugged, a sheepish grin on his own lips. 

“Old habits,” he muttered. “I guess I’ll never get used to the way people in this day and age tend to ignore the niceties.” Glancing over his shoulder he met the little girl’s eyes once more and he smiled. “The dame’s in this day and age are certainly interesting, aren’t they agent?”

Coulson sighed and scratched at his bandaged shoulder. He muttered, “They’re not ‘dames.’ Captain, they’re young ladies. Do try to remember; we don’t need the press spreading a nasty rumor about how Captain America is a misogynist right wing Tea Partier.” 

“’Tea partier’?” the Captain asked curiously as they turned a corner in the hallway and arrived in an opulent wing of the History building that was full of ancient trophy cases, dusty banners and wide stained glass windows depicting the University’s history. “Is that a club?”

Coulson sighed and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it Cap; just know that the moment you get called a misogynist, Fury’s taking you out of the field for the rest of your career. So don’t get called a misogynist, okay?” 

Rogers nodded, his eyes wide behind the ridges of his cowl; Coulson sighed and glanced at the slip of paper in his hand.

“We’re here,” he said as they halted outside of a heavy wood door with a frosted glass window bearing the name Dr. Henri O’Mallia, Professor of American History. 

Glancing at the increasingly nervous Captain, Coulson’s lips lifted in a reassuring smile and he removed his sunglasses. “Take a breath Captain,” he said, his mild voice soothing. “None of these people will bite and our team is on site, ready to escort you off premise the moment things get tense.” 

Rogers’ blue eyes settled on the balding agent and he tried to calm his racing heart. “Are things going to get…tense?” he asked, his voice only a bit shaky. 

Coulson cocked his head and narrowed his eyes in consideration. “All things considered, I’d be surprised if they didn’t. But,” he clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder as he smiled. “If anyone can handle a bit of tension, it’s you, Cap. Just imagine Stark or Banner in your situation.” When Rogers snorted and his back straightened minutely, Coulson nodded. “Right? So, you’re the man for this job Captain. Don’t let a few co-ed’s get your garter’s in a knot.” 

Before the Captain could respond, the agent raised his fist, knocked on the frosted glass window and opened the door when a woman’s voice called for them to come in. 

Glancing over his shoulder at the towering Captain in his red, white and blue uniform he smiled and muttered, “Show time.”

And then they were entering the office of Dr. Henri O’Mallia, professor of history and the highest authority on the secret history of World War II. 

Rogers couldn’t help feeling he may be a little over his head. 

Images of a cantankerous, grey haired, professor in tweed struck him and he almost backed out of the room in terror. 

As it was, Coulson had to drag him into the cluttered office illuminated by the bright sunlight streaming through the towering windows and Rogers sighed at the sight of the empty chair covered in stacks of papers behind the mahogany desk. 

Maybe his talk had been cancelled today…

Before his hopes could get too high, a voice snapped from the windowsill to their left, saying, “Office hours are over, you little brats. I’ve been sitting in this dump for the past three hours and you didn’t show so I’m taking a break. Now get out.” 

Rogers tilted his head back, his eyes searching for the source of the voice and his eyes widened at the sight of petite woman curled up in a windowsill nearly seven feet off the ground; she was buried behind a book he saw was titled, The American God: Propaganda or Actual Soldier and he cringed at the sight of a grinning man in a winged mask bearing a tri-corner shield.

Captain America. 

The USO version.

Wonderful.

Steve wondered if she was reading it on purpose. 

“Ma’am?” he called to the girl in the window. “Is Dr. O’Mallia here?”

When Coulson shifted beside him and shot him a warning glance, Rogers knew he’d made a mistake. 

When the girl looked up from her book and fixed him with a glare from behind the frames of her tortoise shell glasses he knew he’d made a colossal mistake. 

And when she took one final drag on her cigarette and put it out in the ashtray balanced on her knees, all while keeping her silence, Captain America knew he was in trouble. 

“You’re not-you can’t be-Are you?” he sputtered as the girl swung her legs off the windowsill and scooted towards the edge, her toes arched as she reached for the precariously balanced pile of books and papers stacked like steps along the wall. 

“I could ask you the same thing mister,” she said as she took a step onto the first pile, her eyes sharp behind the lenses of her glasses. Rogers swallowed as the pile swayed dangerously, but she seemed unfazed. Judging by the ease at which she was moving from the largest pile of books to a smaller pile of stacked file folders and papers, he’d say it was safe to assume this was a daily occurrence. 

“Your uniform has changed,” she mused as she balanced on what looked like a typewriter’s case stacked on top of some ancient textbooks, which in turn were stacked on a most likely broken spindle back chair. She cocked her head as the pile swayed under her feet and Rogers took a tentative step forward, ready to catch her when the pile fell. 

She was still three feet off the ground. 

He didn’t think her petite figure could handle that fall onto the hard granite floor they stood on. 

Even if it was covered by a lush Turkish rug. 

Coulson cleared his throat, his eyes sparkling as he took in the feisty History professor and the living model of her subject and said, “Yes ma’am, the Captain’s uniform had to go through some modifications after the recent battle in Midtown. Since you’re the leading authority on the Captain, I just have to ask if it meets your approval.”

The woman, Dr. Henri O’Mallia, he realized with a jolt, tapped her lip gently with one neon green painted nail and hummed under her breath. 

“Mmm,” she murmured as she cocked her head in the opposite direction and pushed her glasses up her nose; the Captain shifted under her scrutiny, a distinct sense of de ja vu striking him as she studied him. He felt like he was undergoing a uniform inspection by a hard eyed general. Absently, he fiddled with the belt at his waist, straightening it. 

He swallowed nervously, almost missing the professor saying, “It’s definitely different this time around, more…Captainy, I’d say. Not like that get-up he was in in Midtown. That was a little too comic book for my taste.” 

Rogers’ lips twitched at that and he resisted looking at his handler. 

Coulson had helped design the first version of the uniform. 

Thank God the thing had been thrown away after Midtown. It had been a little too…restricting.

“Mmm the scales are a nice touch.” 

He jumped when suddenly Dr. O’Mallia’s fingers were stretching out to stroke over his shoulders, which were covered by the blue dularium scales Stark had designed as added protection, her gaze frank behind the clear crystal of her lenses. “I expect that adds some extra weight, am I right Captain?”

He met her gaze just as frankly and couldn’t help a small smile from flashing across his lips. “Yes ma’am,” he muttered. “But I can bear it.”

Neither heard Coulson chuckle under his breath. 

They did hear her cellphone start to ring though. 

From across the room. 

“Oh hell!” she swore as she straightened, her glasses sliding down her nose as she turned far too quickly on her pile. “That’ll be Sammy!” 

Rogers’ eyes widened as she started to take a step forward onto a smaller pile of books and papers and as he opened his mouth to say, “Let me help you miss-“ the pile shifted dangerously, a thin book on Nazi tank manufacture slid free of the very center of the stack and Dr. Henri O’Mallia pitched sideways, her arms wheeling as she tried to balance. 

She fell though, right into the waiting arms of Captain America. 

“Oh!” she gasped as his hands tightened around her slender figure. “Well! That wasn’t very graceful!” 

The man’s cheeks warmed under the edges of his cowl and she wondered briefly just who it was that held her. But she remembered the oath she had sworn to Sammy, on top of the Bible no less, and the scary contract currently sitting under her coffee cup on her desk, all signed and sealed. 

No snooping. 

At least, not obviously. 

“Well, thank goodness superheroes still walk amongst us, eh Captain?” she said as she patted his cheek. His smile skewed a bit and she chuckled, “Oh don’t worry, I’m not idealizing you hon, just poking fun.” 

Again, he was struck speechless, both by her frank tone and the sharp intelligence in her gaze. 

Seventy years ago he would have been a shaking mess if he’d been confronted with a dame like this. 

Even now it was hard to remember how words worked. 

“Uh, are you all right, Miss?” he asked, his voice a ghost of his normally authoritative tone. 

“Her name is Dr. Henrietta O’Mallia and she is late for her lecture series, Captain. And as it happens, so are you.” 

They both turned at the sharp voice in the doorway and Rogers’ hands dropped from Dr. O’Mallia’s waist with alacrity. The blonde woman standing in the doorway was scowling, her hands firmly planted on her hips and Rogers was suddenly reminded of an Air Force commanding officer he had met back during the war. 

She had been just as fierce as this woman. 

“Sorry ma’am,” he sputtered as the blonde woman’s frank gaze drifted from Agent Coulson, who was smirking, to the Captain, who was still blushing and finally to Dr. O’Mallia. 

Who was grinning. 

“Don’t worry Cap,” she hissed as she leaned towards him; she was so tiny, he had to bend almost double to hear her. She patted his chest and kissed his cheek as he came into range. “I’ll take care of the dragon.” 

Then, before he could respond, other than a gasp and a sputter, she moved past him towards the woman. “Hey you!” she said as she wrapped her arms around the blonde’s neck and planted a loud smack-a-roo on her lips. “Did you just call me?”

Coulson’s lips lifted in a small smile and he glanced at his asset to judge the man’s reaction. He was very surprised to see the Captain not melting into the ground. There was only a bit of a blush on his cheeks but the agent was pretty sure that was just in response to the doctor’s brusque behavior. Other than that, he just looked mildly interested, as if studying a particularly fine piece of art.

“Henri,” the blonde was saying, her tone warning as she glanced at their visitor; this was a man out of history and from a time when promiscuity and blatant sexuality had been frowned upon. How was Captain America going to handle meeting two full-blown lesbians?

Pretty well, apparently.

Or at least he didn’t stare in horror at them. 

That was better than either of their parents had done when they’d started dating. 

He was actually smiling, his eyes almost gentle as he watched both women.

Henri released her with another sloppy kiss and butt squeeze and then rushed towards a chair covered in rumpled clothes; Sammy rolled her eyes as she selected a still clean blazer, pulling it on over the plaid shirt she was wearing. 

She didn’t change out of her Converse. 

“Hi,” the blonde said wearily as she approached their guest and stuck out her hand. “Samantha Cartwright, Dean of History. Welcome to Cambridge, Captain.”

“Thank you ma’am,” the young man (well, not really young, in all honesty. Young in appearance perhaps, but not in reality) said with a small smile. “You said we’re running late?”

She smiled at the nervousness in his voice but didn’t get a chance to reply. Henri snorted and pushed her glasses up, a habitual motion the Captain realized and she smiled. “Don’t listen to her Captain. We’re not running late. We’ve still got fifteen minutes. Sammy just likes being punctual.” 

Samantha Cartwright rolled her eyes as the younger woman darted around the room gathering her lecture notes, laptop and a couple water bottles from the fridge. “I’ve learned in the past ten years, Captain,” she said as the room’s chaotic clutter worsened with the frantic doctor’s movements. “That if you don’t get Henri moving fifteen minutes before she needs to be somewhere then she will never arrive. Never.” 

Behind them, there was a soft thud and the distinctive sound of paper’s fluttering in the air as Henri swore. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she gasped as she stepped through the snow towards them. 

Samantha sighed and rolled her eyes; either those were pages of Henri’s books or her students’ hard work. Judging by the way Henri stamped her feet on a couple of them, she’d have to say they were of the latter category. 

Dr. O’Mallia was notorious for her hatred of grading. 

“Right,” she breathed as she arrived at the Captain’s side. “You ready Mr. Patriot? The brats are going to love you!”

Her sunny smile was not reassuring. 

“’Brats’?” he repeated as she looped her arm through his, the one not bearing his shield. He shot a slightly desperate look to his handler, who only smiled and shrugged minutely. 

Samantha Cartwright chuckled as she opened the office door and preceded them into the hallway. “Henri has a bit of a bias with our students Captain. Don’t let it worry you. Our students are all very bright and very polite. You won’t run into any hecklers in our lecture halls, we’ll make sure of that.” 

Henri snorted and nudged the Captain with her elbow. “They’re all rich snots,” she whispered loudly as they made their way down the hallway. “They weren’t raised on the streets of Brooklyn.” 

Her soft chuckle raised the fine hairs on the back of his neck but before he could ask what she’d meant by Brooklyn, she was rushing away, following Samantha, both women disappearing through some heavy double doors at the end of the hall. 

As the doors opened, the sound of loud, chattering voices came to them and his heart froze. 

“I don’t think I can do this Coulson,” he hissed as his handler nodded to two other men in suits and sunglasses, wires in their ears. 

“Don’t be silly Rogers,” Coulson said, his voice smug as he adjusted his sling. “You’re Captain America. You can do anything.” 

Rogers didn’t find his words very reassuring.


	4. Idealizing the Object

Captain America was shaking as the agents slid through the doors, silent as shadows as they too disappeared into the lecture hall. The chatter was louder now.

Almost a dull roar, reminding him of the fighter planes from the War.

“I can’t go in there,” he said, his voice going ragged. “This is-“

“Is just a talk to friends, Captain,” said a voice from the doorway.

Both men turned to see Dr. O’Mallia, her glasses almost off the tip of her nose, a small smile on her lips.

There was understanding in her eyes.

“You’ll do just fine, hon,” she said as she closed the door behind her and approached him. She smiled as he fiddled with his shield. “Just do what I do,” she said as she stopped in front of him, her hands rising to straighten his cowl. Coulson shifted warily behind her but she didn’t look at the agent.

“Wha-what do you do, doctor?” the Captain asked, his voice calmer now, a small smile on his lips at her brusqueness. She wasn’t afraid of anything, this tiny history professor. Not even a suited agent who may or may not be armed with more than one weapon on his person. “Any advice would be great. I’m not good at public speaking. Just pep talks.” He swallowed nervously as his eyes darted from the doctor to the door.

Henri smiled and winked. “Pep talks huh? Well, I’m not one for boost-ups. I can tell you my big trade-secret though.” She glanced around, and then leaned into him . “I just imagine them naked Captain,” she whispered the cheeky smile still in place. “There’s some pretty kids in my classes. It’s fairly entertaining.”

Coulson cleared his throat and the two glanced up to see him holding the door open.

“Doctor? Captain? It’s time.”

From the lecture hall they could hear the Dean, Samantha Cartwright, greeting students, visitors and faculty to the unusual late semester guest lecture. The Captain and doctor moved to the door to watch the statuesque blonde speak into the podium microphone set on the lecture hall’s stage which rested under a projector screen.

The coliseum seats were full.

The walls were lined with students.

There were even co-eds sitting three deep on the stairs leading towards the pit at the front of the hall.

There had to be two-hundred students in that hall.

His mouth went dry at the sight.

Henri sensed his panic and caught hold of his hand.

“Naked,” she hissed as she shoved her glasses up her nose. “Lots of naked brats Captain. Don’t panic.”

He tried not to.

He almost failed when Dr. Cartwright continued her introduction.

“I know you all are very interested in this lecture Dr. O’Mallia (there were cheers at Henri’s name and Henri rolled her eyes, muttering, “Ass kissers.” He didn’t miss the affection in her voice.) has put together to celebrate the last week of classes. Those of you who are in her class will be happy to know that your theses actually made it to her office this year (ripples of laughter and Henri huffed in irritation. “They always make it to my office, Sammy,” she growled. “Sometimes they just end up in the trashcan on the way there.” The Captain smiled at that and she nudged him.) Maybe she’ll get them graded before the new semester. Maybe, but I doubt it,” Samantha continued as the laughter grew louder; she was smiling brightly with her teasing and Henri couldn’t resist smiling as well.

Both women’s eyes met across the hall and they nodded.

“Right, well,” Samantha said as the hall settled finally. “May I get Dr. Henri O’Mallia on the stage so she can properly introduce our guest?” She paused as students applauded and the two people standing at the back of the hall almost missed her next sentence, “She’s the expert after all. And he’s the legend.”

Henri snorted and shook her head. “What a ham. Okay,” she said as she turned back to the Captain. “I’ll go down, ease the little honey badgers into it and then I’ll call you down.” She patted his shield and then winked. “Some of those freaky Captain America acrobatics may get things really going big guy.” At his horrified glance she chuckled and poked him in the stomach. “Kidding. God, don’t be such a Splendid Splinter.”

“’Sp-splendid Splinter,’” he choked as she rushed down the stairs, her hands smacking certain student’s in the back of the heads as she went.

They all greeted her cheerfully, laughter and cheers following her as she entered the pit. She waved both hands to her audience, bowed flamboyantly and then leapt up the stairs leading to the stage, taking them three at a time.

“Hey nerds!” she shouted as she made her way to the podium.

Her voice carried easily. Even without a mike.

“Okay, freaks of nature! Glad to see you all here! Some of you I haven’t seen you since the first week of class (there’s some laughter at that, and some students shift uncomfortably, their friends teasing them) but damn you’re all here now! Fantastic, maybe I won’t fail you then.” She was moving around the stage, her body relaxed and a huge smile on her face.

She was in her element here.

“Remind you of anyone?” Coulson asked, his voice wry as he watches her. He fiddled with his sling and sighed as she kissed Samantha on the cheek before patting the woman’s butt.

“Yeah,” Rogers said as he straightens his shoulders self-consciously. Some of the students have caught sight of him, their eyes wide as they nudge their neighbors and begin pointing their fingers in his direction. He can’t help reflecting on her similarities to a certain billionaire currently fiddling with his technology in the basement of his Tower. “Yeah, she does.”

She’s still talking and moving around the stage, her hands shoved in her pockets and her voice carrying easily.

“Guys, I know you love hearing me talk as much as I do, but kiddos sometimes a gal needs to rest her vocal cords.” She paused as they laugh and a few shout some things to her and she waves them down with a chuckle. “So, we’re going to listen to somebody a little less narcissistic than yours truly.” She paused again and then says solemnly, her entire body stilling behind the podium and her students settle immediately. “We all saw what happened in Midtown.” Silence fell and Rogers stilled at the suddenly solemn atmosphere. He glanced at Coulson, whose eyes are shadowed.

Henri continued after a moment, “I’ve talked to a few of you who were there yourselves. It was something…” she sighed and ran her hands through her hair. Her eyes rose to meet his and she winked once more. Turning back to her students she continued, “It was awful but awesome at the same time. We discovered some amazing things, least of which that we are not alone in our universe.”

She smiled as the mutters began to grow again and she shrugged. “But most of us aren’t that surprised about that, in all honesty. No, what was the most amazing thing that came out of Midtown?” She paused and the room stilled, eyes flashing towards him as students waited for her to finally introduce their guest.

“We discovered that once more we are being protected by superheroes; men and women who have made the personal sacrifice to protect us, possibly risking their very lives to keep our world safe from scary freaks intent on hurting us. I don’t know about you, but I breathe a little easier at the thought of a few caped crusaders watching over us as we sleep. And I think that after the events of last week even skeptics like Rush Limbaugh or J. Jonah Jameson (there were some boos at that and she laughed, waving them all back as she did) may have to rethink their tactics.”

Cheers erupted once more and Rogers smiled gently at the sight of her dark hair tumbling haphazardly around her face. She reminded him of Tony Stark in her brash way of speaking but she also reminded him of his long-gone best friend. He suddenly realized that if Bucky were here with him right now, he would have become fast friends with Henri almost immediately.

It was a bittersweet kind of thought.

Suddenly, Coulson was nudging him gently as Henri said, “Ladies and germs, he was a legend during the Second World War, he kept our grandparents’ hopes up in a time of great trial by committing acts of impossible valor and as you know I am a firm believer that he single-handedly won us the War. But that’s just me. I’m by no means an expert, no matter what my agent and our lovely Dean says so I think we should hear his story from the man himself.”

She paused, met his eyes from across the hall and then threw her hand out in his direction, “Harvard? May I introduce the legendary Captain America, the First Avenger?!”

There were cheers and suddenly all of the students were surging to their feet as they turned in his direction; Rogers’ heart began to hammer and he took a deep breath, his eyes closing ever so slightly as he fought to calm his frazzled nerves.

Then as Coulson whispered, “Go!” into his ear, he began to walk as calmly as he could down the flight of wide stairs leading towards the front of the hall.

Impossibly, as he approached the stage, he found his heart calming.

Dr. O’Mallia was right-everything was going to be fine.

All he had to do was keep calm and imagine the students naked.

His stoicism almost broke at that and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as he mounted the stage. Henri smirked as she saw his cheek suck in slightly and she almost burst into laughter as she turned towards their audience, “Captain America, everyone.”

The cheering grew as he waved slightly and even saluted, his shield raised so it caught the stage lights just enough to make the star in the center sparkle.

“Good luck hon,” she murmured as she clasped his hand, pulling him towards the podium. Her students were still cheering and applauding. “You’ll be fine. Just tell us a bit about your history. They’ll take care of the rest.” Her eyes sparkled from behind her lenses and he smiled in response.

“Thanks, doctor,” he murmured as he took up a position behind the podium. She squeezed his hand once more and then took a seat next to Samantha Cartwright directly behind him.

Finally, after taking a few deep breaths, he was ready to face his audience, who was still cheering uncontrollably. Raising his head, he caught sight of Phil Coulson standing at the base of the stairs and he smiled as the man flashed him a thumb’s up.

Everything was going to be fine.

Sure. It was all going to be okay…

“Hello Harvard,” he said, his voice booming over the chaos; slowly they fell silent, their young faces raised to his with admiration and awe in each and every one of their expressions. “Thank you for that warm welcome and thank you Dr. O’Mallia and Dr. Cartwright for asking me here today. It’s a great honor.”

He paused and took another deep breath, “I guess I should start this talk by saying I never expected to live long enough to meet the 21st century and the fact that I am here, now, talking to what can only be described as America’s bright future, amazes me. It’s interesting for me,” he continued as he stepped out from behind the podium and set his shield beside it, much to his handlers chagrin, “to look at all of you here because seventy years ago, college was never an option for me and the men I fought with. So you all,” he gestured towards them as he took up an at-ease position with his arms behind his back and his feet spread shoulder-width apart. “You all are the superheroes in my opinion. You all are doing something I never got a chance to do as a kid.” He smiled and glanced over his shoulder to a wildly grinning Dr. O’Mallia and he shrugged. “You kids are my heroes.”

The cheers and applause that greeted his words warmed his heart and he couldn’t help the wild grin from flashing across his lips at the thought that maybe he had helped a few today.

“All right, enough sentimentality,” he said, his voice carrying easily. “I’m here for a history lecture, so you kids better settle down, because if I don’t deliver, Dr. O’Mallia will have my ears.” The kids laughed and his lips twitched at the sound of said professor snorting from behind him. He could imagine her rolling her eyes at his words.

“Right,” he continued, his gaze solemn as he looked over the lecture hall and met a few student’s intense gazes, “so I guess the story of Captain America begins like a lot of yours; ultimately, it’s about a kid from Brooklyn who just wanted to make a difference in a world that seemed to be spiraling out of control. I was the son of a war hero and a nurse, two people who served our country self-lessly and even now they continue to be my greatest inspiration…”

For two hours he gave his talk, his voice calm and his words quietly inspiring.

For two hours the largest lecture hall in the history wing of Anneberg Hall was filled with an awed silence as all two hundred and thirty students listened to their guest lecturer with wonder in their gazes.

For two hours Captain America inspired the future of America.


	5. The Object's Sexuality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's it guys! 
> 
> I'm sorry for the mania. 
> 
> I realized 20+ pages of fic might be kind of hard to read in this format so I decided to split it up. 
> 
> I hope everyone liked it!
> 
> -M
> 
> P.S. As of 1/26/2013 this fic is complete. Found out in the wee hours of the morning that it got messed up while publishing it a few weeks ago. So make sure you go back and read chapter 3 if you haven't. It might clear some things up for you!
> 
> Thanks again!

“You didn’t say much about how different it is nowadays from when you were growing up, Captain,” Dr. O’Mallia said two and a half hours later as she escorted him from Anneberg Hall. Her arm was looped through his once more and he couldn’t help smiling at how care-free she was with him.

He found himself enjoying it. Thus far the only person he’d met since waking up to treat him like a normal human being, was Tony Stark.

Everyone else either treated him like a soldier.

Or like a ghost.

It was getting very tiring.

“I know,” he said as they stepped out of the double doors of the Hall and began crossing a twilit quad that was now empty of students. “I didn’t think your students would want to hear an old codger discuss the ‘good ole’ days. I thought it’d be best to focus on the War since that’s what you lecture about normally.”

She chuckled. “How do you know what I lecture about?” she asked as she shoved her glasses up her forehead to nestle in her dark hair. She turned her head up to him and smiled cheekily as he flushed. He didn’t answer right away, instead taking the time to think about what today had meant for him.

In the distance he could see the parking lot his team had parked in earlier today and he couldn’t help feeling a little sad at the thought of leaving this beautiful campus. Talking to the students of Harvard had made him realize how much he loved being around young people. This talk had been quite a blessing for Captain America.

“I watched a couple of your lectures on that thing called You Tube,” he said by way of explanation after a moment and he could almost feel the blush on his cheeks deepening. She chuckled over his awkward tone of voice and patted his arm.

“It’s just youtube Captain, no space between words. And I guess I should have known you’d do some research into me. Please tell me it wasn’t the Paris talk. I still don’t remember all of that one.” She smirked as he laughed.

“Was that the one where you sat in the lap of the Louvre curator’s lap and kissed her?” he asked as she groaned.

“Oh God! You did,” she gasped as she laughed. “How embarrassing!”

“She was very pretty. Can’t say I blame you,” he said with a little smile and she snorted.

“Damn me! Captain America, you dog,” she said as she smacked his arm gently. Suddenly she waved and he glanced up to see Dr. Cartwright return the gesture from where she stood talking to someone hidden by the black sedan’s they’d come in. “Listen Captain,” she said and he glanced at her in surprise as she pulled him to a stop and stepped in front of him. “I hope this doesn’t insult your sense of decency but I really can’t stop wondering how you’re handling the slightly more risqué mentalities on sex these days.”

His eyebrows rose at that and he chuckled. “Pardon? Where did that come from?”

She sighed and fiddled with her messenger bag. “Well, if I’m being honest, it’s because I have a chapter about the slightly homo-erotic portrayals of you and Bucky Barnes in the comics. And uh…” she swallowed nervously and ducked her head as her cheeks suddenly flamed.

He simply stared at her, shocked.

He and Bucky…

Homo-erotic?

He started to laugh, a great booming noise that spilled from his chest and rippled over the quad to where Dr. Cartwright still talked to the unseen person hidden by the black sedan.

She glanced up at the sound and he could just make out the frown pinching her brows together.

“Dr. O’Mallia,” he began, “I don’t know where you’re getting those ideas-“

He got no further; suddenly a brightly colored comic book with Captain America on the cover and his trusty sidekick Bucky (and how Sergeant James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes would laugh at that) at his side, was thrust under his nose.

“I’m not the only one who’s gotten ideas Cap,” she said with a small smirk.

He gazed at the comic and then began to flip through it. She watched him avidly, her eyes sparkling as she watched him read and she longed to know what was going through his head as he glimpsed this small piece of his legacy.

“Is it weird for you? Seeing you two like this?” she asked curiously when he had flipped back to the cover; his fingers drifted over the two figures drawn there and she frowned at the sorrowful expression on his face.

He’d only briefly mentioned Bucky Barnes during his talk, mostly to confirm the man’s existence and camaraderie. She’d noticed the sadness in his voice at the mention of his friend even then but she’d kept her thoughts to herself, letting him move on to other topics like the Strategic Scientific Reserve and Howard Stark.

That’s what her students were interested in.

But now…

Now was the time for some easy deducing.

Beginning with sex.

“It’s not ‘weird’ per say,” he said slowly. “It was simply something useful for me to do in a time of war. Even after the serum I was stuck twiddling my thumbs.” Seeing her confusion he shrugged. “I was a science experiment; everything special about me came from a bottle.” He sighed and glanced once more towards the waiting convoy. His eyes widened as he caught sight of who was standing with Dr. Cartwright but he didn’t get a chance to say or do anything. He did get a chance to reflect on the irony of using those specific words, considering who was standing beside the blonde doctor.

“And Bucky?” she asked as she took the comic back from him. “Did he ever see these comic books?”

Rogers chuckled and ran his hand distractedly over his helmet. “Yes and he got quite a kick out of them. But they hadn’t introduced cartoon Bucky yet when we were still around, since I’ve never seen the character.”

He wondered if that had been Howard’s doing, a way for the man to keep both of them around long after they’d fallen to their dooms.

Somehow…it didn’t seem that much of a stretch.

 _Oh Howard,_ he thought sadly as she tucked the comic away in her bag.   _I'm sorry._

“So, I’m guessing there was nothing special between you and Sergeant Barnes?” Dr. O’Mallia asked, her voice gentle but sly as well.

He glanced at her and shook his head. “He was my best friend Dr. O’Mallia, the one friend who stuck with me, even when our lives went to hell. That’s it.”

He wondered if she’d ask about Howard Stark.

She sighed. “Well damn. There goes one chapter. It was pretty good too, all about how Captain America stood as a figure for the homosexuals of his day and age, the quiet, unsung hero who went unnoticed by the straight-laced right-wing conservative WASP’s because he stood behind the American flag.” She sighed again and Rogers resisted a grin as she slid her glasses down onto her nose dejectedly.

He wondered if he should tell her one of his darkest secrets but again he missed his chance.

“So, does this modern mentality of sex seem unusual to you Captain?” she asked, her voice curious. “I can imagine that back in the day people like Sammy and I wouldn’t be the norm or at least not so out in the open. Does that make you uncomfortable?”

He smiled and glanced once more to the sedans before saying, “Not as uncomfortable as it should, doctor.”

Henri frowned as the Captain moved around her and began heading towards the cars. Turning, she caught sight of the suddenly sunny smile on his face and the peaceful glint in his eyes and her own widened as she caught sight of who was walking towards them.

“Oh,” she breathed as Captain America and Tony Stark stopped in the middle of the quad and simply stared at each other. “Damn me,” she whispered as the Captain’s hand rose to smooth an errant curl back from Stark’s forehead.

“Hi,” Stark said, a crooked little grin on his lips as he gazed at the towering Captain. “How’d your talk go?”

“Really well,” the Captain said with a small smile as he lowered his hand and fiddled with his shield. “I find myself suddenly famished now though. I was thinking about dinner…”

Stark’s throat worked as he swallowed and his smile faltered slightly but then he straightened his spine and said, “Well I know of this really great seafood place near the square. Interested?”

“Oh yes,” the Captain said, his voice soft. “That sounds excellent.”

Stark’s smile widened and he ran his hand through his hair excitedly. “Great, that’s great. After all, I do owe you a favor.”

“Yes you do,” the Captain said, laughter in his voice. “Shall we go?”

“Definitely,” Stark said and they began heading towards the cars, their hands very nearly touching and their hips brushing ever so gently against the other’s every few steps; it made a very touching sight.

Two superheroes walking into the sunset across a beautiful Ivy League quad.

Dr. Henrietta O’Mallia’s mouth was agape as she stared after Captain America and Tony Stark as they walked away from where she stood, utterly floored, in the center of the quad; suddenly she jumped and scrabbled at her pocket, withdrawing a tiny tape recorder. The tape spun, near the end of its reel and the “Record” button was still depressed.

She breathed a sigh of relief and pressed the “Stop” button and then the “Rewind” button; just as she started to press “Play,” a hand stretched out to stop her and a voice said, “Of course, you remember our discretionary contract Dr. O’Mallia?”

She turned to see Agent Phil Coulson smiling mildly at her and Samantha Cartwright with a warning eyebrow quirked in her direction.

“Well, damn me!” she sputtered as the tape recorder was removed gently from her hands. “That’s just not fair Mr. Suit!”

He only smiled and slid the device into a clear plastic evidence bag tagged “Top Secret.”

Samantha Cartwright chuckled as the agent made his way back to the sedans, which were running now and wrapped her arm around her girlfriend’s waist.

“Come on you, let’s go get some dinner and some really nice wine,” she said as she planted a kiss to the younger woman’s temple. “You’ll be fine.”

Henri started to grin as she reached into her messenger bag and removed her phone.

“Damn right I will be,” she said with a manic giggle as she quit the audio record app. “He forgot to check my phone. Let’s get a bottle of wine so I can write this new chapter right!”

“Oh Henri,” Samantha sighed as Henrietta O’Mallia stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed her. “You’ll be the death of me.”

Henri simply laughed and squeezed her butt as she kissed her lips gently.


End file.
